


Fallout: Hero to All but None (Cancelled)

by Majorminor2242



Category: Fallout (Video Games), 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia
Genre: Based on Fallout 3/4 (Crossing Both Together), Implied/Referenced Character Death, Matter of Life and Death, Midoriya Izuku May or May Not Receive One for All, Quirks Exist, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Slow Character Introduction, Sorry No Spoilers!, World is a Wasteland, lots of death and violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-04
Updated: 2019-07-05
Packaged: 2020-06-09 14:53:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19478209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majorminor2242/pseuds/Majorminor2242
Summary: This story is a crossover between My Hero Academia and Fallout 3/4 stories.But there is no academia, nor are there heroes.There are, however, many stories. Ones of the past. Of what was.Before what  is  came to be.‘Yesterday is history,Tomorrow is a mystery,But today is a gift. That is why it is called the present.’This vault has too many mottos. They’re driving me crazy.‘Live to forgive,Forgive to forget.But live to forget, and what is forgotten will never be learnt from.’The wasteland sounds awful. Dreadful. Horrific.Radiation infested ruins of a land now plagued by death and mutations. Dead rise again as ghouls and prey feast on predator alike in an all v all battle that can have no permanent winner or end.But would you stay locked behind bars in an impenetrable cage, waiting for an empty death underground in artificial light? Buried under artificial grass and mourned by the same one hundred people or so?In reality, us dwellers are all just living to die...But I’m dying to live.





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> This story revolves around a young boy.
> 
> A strange young boy.
> 
> An enigma.
> 
> A disgrace.
> 
> An atrocity.
> 
> A mutant.
> 
> A quirkless young boy.
> 
> He was the only one in the vault that had no power. That held no resistance. He was weak, and paled in comparison to every other. He couldn't fight, nor could he protect.
> 
> He was a failure.
> 
> My name is Izuku Midoriya, and this is my story.

Once upon a time, in a world of evolving technology and super-powers...

…there came an era when the ideals of morals gave way to greed, selfishness, paranoia and a jealous reaping of dwindling space and natural resources. Lands took up arms against their neighbours as hero battled civilian battled villain in a looping paradox of proving who was the strongest. The end of the world occurred much as we had predicted -- the world was plunged into an abyss of murder. The details are trivial and pointless. The reasons, as always, purely our own. The world was nearly wiped clean of life. A great cleansing; an egotistical spark struck all and quickly raged out of control. Quirks rained from the skies and stabbed through the heavens. Everything demolished as all kinds of powers tore the Earth and reality. That was only _before_ the bombs dropped. Entire lands were swallowed in flames and fell beneath the boiling oceans. In desperate paranoia, all Humankind was almost extinguished, their spirits becoming part of the ambient radiation that blanketed the lands. A quiet darkness fell across the world...

…But it was not, as some had predicted, the end of the world. Instead, the apocalypse was simply the prologue for another bloody chapter in Human history. In the early days, thousands were spared the horrors of the holocaust by taking refuge in enormous underground shelters known as Vaults. But when they emerged, they had only the hell and ruins of the wastes to greet them. All except those in Vault Four-Two-Two. For on that fateful day when hell rained from the sky, the giant steel door of Vault 422 swung closed, and never re-opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to say that this story was tremendously inspired by another story, however I'd rather not share the name. I would, however, like to refrain from taking all credit of such a magnificent concept.
> 
> Whilst I am the one who created the first MHA/Fallout crossover, I am not the one who deserves the credit if this turns out well since most of this plot is already from someone else except I simply plan to rewrite it in my own words and with as many differences as possible as to not create a literal replica of his work 😂 *scratches head*
> 
> Yeah, I just don't wanna write who or where this story is from because it's kinda embarrassing…? To be honest, I don't even know how I ever stumbled upon it. So please don't ask for me to share it with you, privately or not. Just try to explore like I did and I'm sure you may find it with the right tags! But be warned, it's a little bit of a… strange crossover…? Yeah, it was weird enough for me for for the majority of the fic, but it was simply written so well that I could move past the strangeness of it's crossover and stuff.
> 
> Also, if anyone happens to know, or later find out where this all came from, please can you refrain from commenting such? I hate to be a dictator like Hitler controlling the German press -no racism because I have German friends that's just honest history-, but I will delete comments. This is simply because I wish to retain any dignity I have.
> 
> P.S. To the author of an amazing fan-fiction - I am honestly amazed by your incredible story narration and I feel I have many writing techniques I can learn from you! Whilst it was truly a… strange idea for a crossover? It kinda worked so I'll give you that, and I was still able to enjoy reading it. Super super sorry for a little bit of plot theft, but this is fan-fiction. Technically every fanfic in existence is 'illegal' by copyright disclaimer laws and whatnot so I hope if you see this then no hard feelings? 😅😂 I did try to contact you for permission but I'm almost certain at this point that you never received it and Idk what else to do.
> 
> As I said, I am the first to do this particular crossover however, so it should still be extremely far from the original. Not only that, but I'm going to be writing up a storyboard on a poster in my room (since I have played fallout lots) and so I should easily be able to plan for many different scenes, places and development and all that jazz.
> 
> Please to all that actually read to the bottom, enjoy my take on Fallout! 😁
> 
> And to any of those that skipped to the bottom, PLEASE just read all of the above? It'll only take thirty seconds, thanks.


	2. Prologue: Of Quirks and PipBoys

* * *

**Play Holotape?**

**[YES] / [no]**

* * *

*BEEP

*Krrchh crch crackle*

"A Quirk (個性 Kosei, lit. "Individuality"), also known as a Meta Ability by the Meta Liberation Army, is a special, superhuman ability an individual can possess. Quirks are generally unique to their user, and are classified in multiple categories. Emitter, transformation and mutant.

Emitter (発動 __Hatsudō__[?](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:Installing_Japanese_character_sets), lit. "Activation")-type Quirks have the ability to either release certain substances, or alter materials around them in certain ways. Emitter-type Quirks usually require a conscious effort to activate.

Transformation (変形 __Henkei__[?](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:Installing_Japanese_character_sets))-type Quirks cause the user to take on a temporary alteration of some kind. Transformation-type Quirks allow the user to temporarily "transform" their body in a variety of manners, sometimes enhancing existing features or perhaps adding new features to the body altogether.

Mutant (異形 __Igyō__[?](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Help:Installing_Japanese_character_sets))-type (also called Heteromorphic-type) Quirks can have a wide variety of features and abilities depending on the individual. Generally, Mutant-type Quirks are associated with the user's physicality (mutations). As a result, Mutant Quirks are passively active and, at a glance, are the most identifiable.

The first person to manifest a Quirk was a newborn baby in the city of Qingqing, who had the ability to emanate light from their body. After that incident, many people around the world began to manifest different kinds of special abilities. While the cause of the Quirk phenomenon is unknown, it has been theorized that the spread of a virus carried by mice had brought about their development. Currently, around 80% of the world population possesses a Quirk.

The dawn of this extraordinary era was marred by a breakdown of society caused by the sudden onslaught of criminals empowered by their newfound "superpowers". These superpowers were first referred to as meta abilities before later being called Quirks.

As chaos and unrest ensued due to the outbreak of Quirks, ordinary civilians with their own Quirks decided to take matters into their own hands to bring order to society and thus the first "heroes" appeared in the form of Vigilantes and thus beginning the Vigilantes Era. As society adapted to the new status quo, the Police Force moved to prioritize leadership and to maintain the status quo, and as such, decided not to use Quirks as weapons. To fill that void, the profession of crime fighting Quirk users, Pro Heroes, began to exist which caused the Vigilantes to slowly disappear. Authorizing the use of powers that could so easily kill, however, was a greatly criticized decision at first. Over time, it came to garner public support due to the fact that the first people to work professionally as heroes acted morally and upheld the law. However, some members of society were not happy with the the governments' regulations on Quirk usage as they believed that the use of their superhuman abilities should be a right. A group of Quirk users known as the Meta Liberation Army, led by Destro, had tried to stop the passing of regulations that would restrict Quirk usage. They rebelled against several governments for years before ultimately suffering defeat.

Quirks are inherited genetically through what appears to be Mendelian inheritance and typically manifest in children by the age of four at the latest. Children will either manifest one of their parent's Quirks or a new composite Quirk formed by the fusion of the two. This composite Quirk may sometimes give the appearance of the person having two separate Quirks, however for the majority of the time ends up simply being a mixture of the parents' quirks. Much more rarely, a child may manifest a Quirk that is entirely unrelated to their genetic lineage, akin to a mutation.

Oh, and back before the war, there were these devices called 'X-rays'. These were used to determine the likelihood of a child developing a quirk. It was as simple as 'do they have still have two pinkie toe joints?'.

Now, why am I telling you this? Well, other than to give you context, as well as point out that these history books are outdated by two hundred years (in that every human being on the planet -except me- has a quirk)…

Well, I'm _bored_.

It's quite plain and simple, but I've been bored for the past seventeen years of my life -since I was born. You're born in the Vault. You live out a peaceful, repetitive daily routine, and then you die in the Vault.

Of course, the Overseer tries to cheer us all up with occasional parties with our homemade brewing distillery, creative, ornamental decorations such as murals that are occasionally painted on walls, as well as events and such. Every Saturday evening, the most majestic girl of my dreams sings with the elegance of a nightingale. She's a true stunner, but I could never have her heart anyway. She's well out of my league.

Mina Ashido. Her skin is pink like a plastic straw in the cafeteria, or like the flamingo in the zoology book in the library, and her hair is only one or two shades whiter and lighter. It looks like strawberry bubblegum but diluted white just a tad, and I wouldn't be surprised if it smelt like that too. She gets all the luxuries. Of course she would, being our most important anchor of sanity in a cramped, suffocating cave reinforced with steel and housing around one hundred people inside.

She also has ridiculously mesmerising eyes. If only I could stare at them all day without being considered a creep, I would. They're unique only to her and to her alone. They're completely black. Void of colour except for the golden hued irises contrasting the dark magnificently. Like two wicking candle flames licking at the dark when all the main lights are off.

Anyway, moving away from my crush and onto the bigger picture, _welcome to my story!_ If you're reading or hearing this holotype right now, which yes, I checked and is roughly _six-hundred hours long_ and takes up almost _thirty terabytes of storage_ , then you must really be dedicated to hearing the story of a legend!

Nah, alright. I suppose that's a little bit of an exaggeration. I'm not legendary, however the story I have to recount remains incredible and I urge you to listen to it still!

Are you still listening?

Okay good, good. Well, I don't know, play a boardgame or something as you listen or whatever... But now... _brace_ _yourself_ , for the epic journey revolving around me and my friends! _Say hi, everyone!_ "

*A chorus of 'Hi!', 'Hello.' and ' _What the hell are you doin' Midoriya?_ ' sounds from the holotape*

"Don't worry about it, Kiri. It's just a pre-war invention called a holotape. It records my voice as well as messages and diary logs. Cool, right!"

"Yeah… sure. Uhh wait, so you're just gonna tell it your entire journey up until now then?"

"Yup! Sounds fun, right? I mean, I’ve actually already recounted everything already and this is just the introduction, but I can get you one so you can-"

"Nope. I'm alright thanks."

"…Fine whatever.

...

Anyway! Back on track! So, as I said, I've already recorded everything about my journey in this dismal shithole, so this is just a little introduction to get you started.

If I’m going to tell you about the adventure of my life - explain how I got to this place with these people, and why I did what I’m going to do next - I should probably start by explaining a little bit about PipBoys.

What is a PipBoy? A PipBoy is a device, worn on your left forearm, issued to everyone in a Vault when they become old enough to start work. A blending of mostly science but also a historic, famous quirk belonging to an ingenious man named Pip Stein, allows your PipBoy to house many impressive features! It will keep a constant measure of your health and even help administer healing poultices and other medicine, track and organise everything in your possession, assist in repairs, and keep all manner of notes and maps available at a fingertip. Plus, it allows you to listen to the Vault broadcast whenever you would like as it can tune into and decrypt just about any radio frequency. And that’s not all. A person's PipBoy generates an H.U.D. (Heads Up Display) that will indicate direction on a digital compass as well as waypoints and locations set on your map by utilising its built in retina display. And, perhaps most impressively, a PipBoy can 'magically' aid you in a fight for brief periods of time through use of the V.A.T.S. (Vault-Tec Assisted Targeting System). Oh, and a feature not to be forgotten: like the map, it can keep track of the location of tagged objects or people, including the wearers of other PipBoys. So if someone somehow got lost -- don’t ask me how you could get lost in a Vault, but it does happen on occasion -- then anyone who knew the lost person’s tag could find them instantly. 

It can even be made to glow like a lamp, which is cool I guess. Not amazing though, seeing as there were always lights that constantly run on the backup generator that never turns off, not even at night.

But yes, PipBoys really are a testament to science as well as reality through use of the quirk that created its program. And yes, having a PipBoy is a big advantage. So with how wonderful and miraculous all that just sounded, it’s hard to impress upon people who never lived in a Vault just how ordinary, how _pedestrian_ , a PipBoy was in the eyes of the residents of Vault 422.

Everyone in Vault 422 had a PipBoy. All that stuff I mentioned? Most people don’t use even half of that. They just used it to tune into the Weekly broadcast -- listened to the sweet, sweet voice of Mina Ashido in the evenings or the latest school singing competitions during the day. The Vault had two soccer leagues, one which allowed V.A.T.S. and one which prohibited it. Otherwise, most paid their PipBoys almost no attention at all. The Overseer issues each person their own PipBuck on the day of their sixteenth birthday -- usually a day or two after you take the G.O.A.T. (Generalized Occupational Aptitude Test) which is what determines your strengths, weaknesses and how you are special. In other words, it decides your entire life with ten questions, and tells you in stone what you’re destined to be good at. Once it shows, the Overseer knows what work to assign you; you know your place in the Vault. So no, I was not thrilled that what made me special was something that everyone had, which was a lot like being told I wasn’t special at all. Sure, getting a 'PipBoy Technician' job could have meant I was destined to become an awesome PipBoy repair guy or something, but in reality it was like getting no quirk.

Which was another thing that happened to me, but we'll talk more about that later.

Anyway, so yeah. At the age of sixteen, I was politely told to become the old coot's (the only other PipBoy repairman) apprentice -Learn under him or we'll put you on the cleanup crew- and to work diligently -work as hard as humanly possible, because if your body doesn't drop unconscious on the first day then you aren't trying hard enough- .

I still remember trying my luck at lock picking. I was always bored and restless, dreaming of larger things, so I decided to learn to pick locks with a bobby pin and screwdriver. And I was even getting pretty good at it. Unfortunately, it didn’t keep me entertained for very long as it just got me into trouble. I ended up with two months of community service and had my most needed tool for work, my _screwdriver_ , removed for what felt like eons.

Because trust me, trying to loosen screws with a _knife_ ain't easy.

Oh, my name is Izuku Midoriya. Go figure I forget to introduce myself at the beginning of the introduction, but ah well. Interesting fact about my name is that the kanji stands for 'Exit/Come out-Long Time and Green-Valley, Izu-ku Midori-ya. Looking back at it now, it's extremely ironic to be called that. That's not just including my natural green highlights in my black hair, green eyes and… you guessed it, my favourite colour is green. No, strangely it's almost as though my name came _after_ everything I've done and gone through… But I'll leave you to understand what I mean by that if you can after I now begin recounting the fateful day.

Pleased to meet you. Here is my story…


	3. Out of the Frying-Pan-

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Because no-one ever enters, and no-one ever leaves.

Grey. 

The walls of the maintenance stalls were all a very monotonous, dull grey. The particular wall I was staring at had the merit of being a very clean grey. PipBoys were notoriously hardy and reliable, so being the Vault’s PipBoy Technician meant that there were long periods of nothing to do. Being the PipBoy Technician’s apprentice meant that I was assigned all the mundane daily chores while my trainer took extended naps in the back room. Chores like cleaning the walls.

“This wall needs a mural.” 

I let myself fantasize, picturing the Overseer agreeing and ordering Keito herself to turn our entire stall into one of her brightly colorful masterpieces. She was the greatest painter in the Vault, and like every skilled artist, that made her a treasure. Life in Vault’s inevitably began to eat at your spirit -- you were born in the Vault, you lived your whole life in the Vault, you were going to die there, and the course of your life was largely laid out for you to see by your G.O.A.T. . So the Overseer insisted that a new song be added to the radio broadcast’s repertoire each week, that public areas were brightly painted and adored with uplifting and motivational murals and mottos, that regular parties were planned in the atrium… all in an effort to distract and stave off depression.

Reality came crashing back as I stared at the eternally blank grey. Beautifying maintenance areas was tragically low priority already, and the PipBoy Technician stall was one of the least trafficked parts of maintenance. I felt my head droop as I started to realize that I’d be staring at this same grey wall nearly every day for the rest of my life. 

“Oh come on, dude, is it really _that_ bad?”

And there she was. Mina Ashido the beauty herself. Curly hair and two small, cute horns protruding from her head, hooking forward. The girl, my age, with a voice as smooth as silk and rich as the finest chocolate, was standing in the doorway of my stall. I felt immediately grateful that I had finished the cleaning and simultaneously ashamed that the room was so beneath her. 

I couldn’t believe she was standing there. I’d seen her on the stage above us at late parties; I’d listened to her songs incessantly, recording every new one on my PipBoy so that I didn’t have to wait to hear it again. I’ll admit it now, I’d had a crush on Ashido for years. Me and every other hundred residents. My mother used to laugh at that. “Izuku,” she would say, chortling with her friends, “If you truly love her then get out there and say something! Otherwise you’ll regret it later.” I had never managed to work up the courage to say ‘hi’ let alone that.

And took me several seconds to process that a living goddess had just asked me something.

“W-wha-huh?” 

Wonderful response, Midoriya. So elegant. I wanted to dig my way through the concrete floor and pull the chunks over the top of me. 

She smiled softly with a soft chuckle and a scratch of the head. She smiled at me! And in that amazing voice, “You looked so heartbroken when I came in. There anything I can do?”

Mina Ashido offered... to help me!?

I was shocked back to my senses. She must have some reason to be down here. Some PipBoy reason. It wasn’t like she would just go wandering around maintenance, after all. Looking around, I realized that I was the only one on duty. My teacher was, as usual, asleep in his office. 

“O-oh… no, it was n-nothing. Just... dreaming.” I tried to regain composure. “H-how may I be of assistance?” Damn my natural stutter!

The girls expression was both compassionate and an unconvinced smirk, but she lifted an arm, raising her PipBoy up to my gaze. A more elegant model than mine, with her initials and an a beautiful bird with wings outstretched and beak opened in song embellishing it tastefully. “Sorry to bother you and all, but it’s begun to rub and I kinda want to just air my arm out a bit, let it heal and... stuff. Could you replace the padding?”

“Oh, a-absolutely!” I was already unclipping the special keys used to unlock a PipBoy from someone’s arm (as an apprentice PipBoy Technician, I had all manner of special precision tools in the pockets of my utility barding). “I-I’ll have it done in an hour, or three if you’d like a full tune up?” The PipBoy came off with a click.

Ashido chuckled hesitantly, lowering her arm and rubbing it. “Oh no, that’s fine. Take your time. I’m just gonna go put some creme on back in my room and rest up for the... big afternoon.”

That’s right! Ashido was performing at the Vault 422 Saloon tonight! I would have to polish it up, make it worthy of being worn above her hand. If I spent the next few hours on it, I could give it a full tune-up, have it running as smoothly as the day she got it, and still have it back to her before the show. 

“All right! I’ll have it back to you by, say _six_?. You won’t be disappointed. I promise!”

She smiled at me again, and all the grey in the world couldn’t darken my day. “Thanks.” And then she turned to go. “Oh, one other thing...” she seemed... reluctant, but lowered her head to look at the ground between us. “I was just... _curious_. About what you were daydreaming about? Would you mind telling me?”

Huh? Why would she care about what I’m thinking in my free time? “Well, I guess just about how... depressing life is. Like, maybe not for you, since you’re awesome! You have an amazing job that pleases everybody... but I’m just someone that fixes things that rarely break.” Her face seemed to fall at that. “A-anyway, don’t let me bore you with my dreams of a better life! _Not like the Vault will ever open anyways..._ ” 

She sighed, her face was both indecisive and conflicted. She looked like she wanted to say or ask something, but sound never broke the air. Only an unidentifiable look met my eyes.

I watched as she disappeared around the doorway. Then she was gone.

*** *** ***

The next day, I was whistling one of Mina Ashido’s songs as I walked down the halls towards her room. Her PipBoy was secure in my gentle grip, freshly padded with the best lining I could find, looking shiny and new. I was tired from a long few hours of work, but in high spirits. She was going to be so happy with my work!

Turning the corner, I was startled out of my reverie by the mass of beings gathered outside Ashido’s room. Damn, I was going to have to battle my way through autograph seekers and paparazzi. Holding the PipBoy higher and closer, I started to shove my way into the crowd.

“She’s gone!” “How could she leave?” The hushed, frantic voices of panicked fans around me grew alarming. “Why would she abandon us?” 

Gone? Mina Ashido was… gone? 

And then the words that stopped me cold. “I didn’t think the Vault door even could open!”

She was gone _outside!?_

“Don’t worry, everyone!” boomed the voice of the Overseer from somewhere in the crowd. “I have the tag of each and every person in the Vault. I will personally send out a rescue party. We’ll have our star back by the end of the day. Worry not.”

I felt I was drowning in cold, wet cement. My gaze slowly moved up towards the PipBuck floating above me.

I lowered my head, slowly trying to back out of the crowd, curling the PipBoy close. When the Overseer brought up her tag, it would lead everyone not to Mina, but to her PipBoy sitting in my hands…

With a thump, I backed into someone, startling me enough that the strong grip on it was lost and the clean and shiny PipBoy clattered to the floor.

Turning, I found myself eye-to-eye with the Overseer. 

She didn’t speak, her gaze turning to the PipBoy on the ground. Mina Ashido’s initials and personalised engravement clearly visible.

“What... Is... This...?” The Overseer spoke slowly, dangerously.

All eyes turned to me. I could feel every pair of eyes. Nobody spoke. The silence bore down like a lead blanket. My mouth went dry. I couldn’t find my voice. 

I didn’t need to. I could feel the wave of loathing. Dozens of her fans, and I was the one holding the reason why their idol was lost to them.

The Overseer’s voice was low and surprisingly gentle. “Take it and go to your room. Swiftly.”

She didn’t need to tell me twice.

*** *** ***

I lay on my bed that evening, poking at Mina’s PipBoy as the radio in my own played yet another re-iteration of the tragedy of the day. 

I couldn’t believe it. She was _gone_. I couldn’t understand. How could she leave? Why would she go? 

The door out of Vault 422 was closed and sealed. Only the Overseer knew the secrets to opening it, assuming it even could open. Which, obviously, it could. 

But why? Nobody really knew what was outside, if there was anything out there at all. Historical books suggested the world outside was blasted, lifeless and poisonous. That was, at least, the common and logical assumption. But a ghost story adults told at my first (and only) slumber party had given me horrible nightmares and still lurked in the shadows of my head: a tale of a boy who somehow got the Vault door open and stepped outside… only to find out that there _was_ no outside! Just a great nothingness that whisked him away, devouring his soul so that he was nothingness too.

Empirically, I knew that wasn’t the case, but the mental image still haunted me.

The two things I did understand was that Mina Ashido had gotten me to remove her PipBoy so the Overseer couldn’t track her with it, and that I was screwed.

Being the smallest boy my age, and the only person in the Vault without a quirk, did not facilitate building friendships with my peers. Mother honestly didn’t help either -she tried but just didn’t understand. Nor did waking up screaming at my first slumber party. So I was used to being alone...

But I’d never had enemies before. I’d been beneath the notice of other people, but I’d never had one hate me.

I really couldn’t blame them either, even though it totally wasn’t fair. They were upset and hurt and needed a scapegoat. A way to venture their frustrations and anger, and who best than the only person even remotely connected and responsible?

The news hadn’t mentioned me by name, just “Mina Ashido’s custom-decorated PipBoy was found in the possession of a PipBoy Technician”, but with a whole _two_ of us, it wasn’t hard for everyone to figure out, even without the scene outside her room earlier. 

The Overseer was speaking on the radio. “We are all feeling this loss. But I want to remind everybody that she chose to do this. She chose to leave her home. To abandon us, her family. She betrayed my trust and she betrayed yours, just as she betrayed the trust of the boy who she tricked into removing her PipBoy, ensuring we could not find her. I know many of you are angry or hurt. I urge you to direct that anger where it truly belongs…”

As thankful as I was for her words, it wasn’t going to change the resentment that I would face every day, even if every person kept it to themselves. It hung in the air like old smoke.

I distracted myself with the errant PipBoy, taking note of an encrypted file. I had spotted it yesterday, figuring it was probably an unfinished new song. I didn’t want to open it then, both out of respect for Ashido’s privacy and a dislike of spoilers, but I guessed it didn’t matter anymore. The song would never be played.

Opening a pouch on my utility barding, I withdrew an access tool that would allow me to remove the encryption safely and easily. It was a sound file. I played it.

“The override code for opening the door to Vault 422 is… FOE-3PH.”

I shot up in surprise at what I had heard. Swiftly, I turned off the radio and played it again.

I didn’t recognize the voice. It was female, kinda sweet, and had a strange accent that didn’t sound like anyone in the Vault. But now I knew how Mina Ashido left.

I must have sat there for hours, contemplating what I should do. But finally, I made my choice. 

I was going to go outside after her. I was going to bring her back.

*** *** ***

I stood there, staring at the huge steel door that sealed the Vault away from the horrors (or nothingness!) outside. And at the two guards who blocked my way. They were armed with tasers alongside with their batons, which was new and unusual.

I had my rucksack packed with food and necessities. Even a Big Book of Engineering and Sciences for something to read. I had two canteens, one strapped to my belt and the other draping from my neck. I was ready to go. But the Overmare was making sure there were no follow-up acts.

Insistence and glowering looks weren’t going to get me anywhere against forty thousand volts, so there was only one way I could see this happening. They weren’t going to let me anywhere near the control panel. 

“Hey, so what do you think about that bastard who let our Ashido get lost outside anyway?” one of the guards inquired daringly. The other guard looked away in disgust. I’m not sure if he was disgusted at me, or if he felt like the Overseer seemed to about people wanting to take it out on me. I was kinda hoping it was the former, considering what I was about to do to them.

Slowly and silently, i coiled round the outskirts of the large open room. There were luckily a few consoles, desks, chairs and such to hide behind, but I had to time everything perfectly lest I end up getting seen electrocuted.

**_*THUD! BANG! CLATTER!*_ **

The metal footlocker I held above one of their heads dropped heavily, knocking him out cold. I then managed to unbuckle his baton just in time before the other guard hit me. Ducking and weaving wobbly, I barely managed to skim his attacks, and somehow, against all odds, managed to land a very lucky hit straight to his noggin.

Both were now out cold -I checked that they didn't get seriously injured- and I was at the controls, entering the passcode from Mina Ashido’s PipBoy when the Overseer’s voice boomed through nearby speakers.

“Stop! I order you to stop this instant!”

Yeah, that wasn’t going to happen.

“Guards! I want all security at the Vault door! Stop that boy!”

Oh crap!

My hands flayed around the big red buttons, before an obvious lever labelled 'PULL TO OPEN' grabbed my desperate attention. I then simply prayed that that label wasn't a joke, or that the codes weren't changed. Then, with all my strength, I threw the switch.

A loud clanging filled the air, followed by a hissing of steam and a great rumble that shook the room. As I watched, the massive bolt that held the door from Vault 422 shut slid back. A huge hinge-arm swung down, attaching itself to the door, and with a teeth-clenching squeal, pulled the massive steel door out and away.

Even though I threw the switch, I was stunned to see it actually open, and yet my only appropriate thought at that moment was 'Dear god that needs some grease'.

“You don’t have to do this… Izuku, isn’t it?” The Overseer’s voice kicked me out of my stupor. I could hear the echoes of many marching men drawing near. 

I took a step towards the door. “Don’t worry. I’ll bring her back.”

“No you won’t! If you leave here, you’ll never be let back in!”

For a moment, the unfairness stung. The Overseer was willing to send out a search party to bring Ashido back. But then, she was special, and I was… not.

Part of me wanted to turn back right there, crawl back to my room and my dreary but safe life. 

Drawing myself up, I stepped out the door.

*** *** ***

With a final hiss and clang, the steel door of Vault Four-Two-Two closed irrevocably behind me. 

I don’t know what I expected to find just beyond the door, but it certainly wasn’t this long, dark hallway that smelled of rotting timbers and sepulcher air. I was no longer in the Vault. But I wasn’t outside yet either. I was in limbo. Like the hallway between Earth and Heaven, the light was piercing from the end of the dark tunnel.

I turned on my PipBoy’s light, and recoiled with a gasp at the skeletons of long-dead humans which littered the hall. The outside of the Vault door was marred from where people had slammed on it until their hands and/or weapons cracked, shattered and broke, trying to get in.

Moving forward quickly and resisting the urge to vomit at the grotesque graveyard, I discovered that the hallway opened into an old room with stairs leading up to a horizontal door with a shattered lock. The entrance from the outside world into Vault 422 had been cleverly disguised as the door to a humble apple cellar. And by disguised, I meant that the person who built it had been building an apple cellar.

  
Taking a deep breath, I crept up the stairs, swung open the rotted cellar door, and stepped outside.


	4. -And Into the Fire

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Courage is being scared to death - but saddling up anyway."  
> — John Wayne

Nothingness!

My first several seconds outside were a heart-bursting eternity of blood-pounding terror! The story had been right! All that was outside was a great black nothingness! It surrounded me, suffocating. If I had been able to draw breath, I would have screamed.

And then my eyes started to adjust to the darkness. I began to calm, gasping, feeling weak (and not just a little foolish). In my defense, I had never experienced _night_ before. Not really. Sure, I’d always turned off the lights before curling into bed, but that darkness was small, confined to my little room. And there was always the glow from under the door. The hall lights of Vault 422 were eternal. 

This was different. A cool air, ghastly and quite unlike anything within the Vault, tickled my skin and chilled my core. It bore smells that were dank and rotting, dusty and alien. I could hear the sounds of night insects, creaking of wood and a far-off sloshing... but I was struck more by what I _couldn’t_ hear -- the constant low hum of the Vault’s generators and the ever-present high whine of the lights were _gone_ \-- so powerful in their absence that I first mistook the outside as silent. I could feel dirt and broken stones beneath my shoes, so unlike the smooth and sterile floors I had trailed all my life. And though I could not see much or far, I could see further than I had ever seen before; there were no walls to mark the end of the room. I was staring into a horizontal abyss that stretched out from me in every direction.

An entirely new panic began to form within me. My legs collapsed from under me and I sat, stunned. I turned my gaze to the ground, breathing deeply, thanking it not only for holding me up, but for being a visual endpoint. Then I made the mistake of looking up into the sky, and the absolute endless up-ness of it sent my head spinning and my stomach lurching.

Great masses of clouds rolled over most of the sky; but there were gaps through which soft light poured and through those I could see the up went on forever. Insanely, I thought of the clouds as a great net, made to catch me if I fell from the earth into the yawning gulf above; but if I slipped through the holes, I would just fall up forever.

I clenched my eyes shut and tried to keep from vomiting _again_.

The fear and queasiness was intense but passing. Once my faculties returned, I began to notice those things that had escaped me in my initial panic. The surrounding terrain was becoming evident. The world around me did not stretch out evenly; the ground heaved and rolled -- hills creeping towards mountains. The earth was punctured by the upthrusting black fingers of long-dead trees. Along distant hilltops, I could see the swaying, leaf-shrouded branches of healthier woods, but the living trees near the cellar were few, scattered and sickly. 

Second, I noticed that my PipBoy was flashing with a host of alerts. The map-maker was already beginning to do its work on my new and unfamiliar surroundings, and to my surprise had already pulled a label from the ether: Hokkaido Farm.

Turning around to get my bearings, my eyes were drawn to the large, hollowed husk of what I assumed had once been a magnificent house. Now, it creaked and swayed in the breeze as if threatening to collapse. 

Looking to my PipBoy again, I noticed that it was picking up several radio transmissions. The radio broadcast from the Vault was dark and staggered, but new stations had taken its place. My heart leapt, for it was the first indication that there might be some form of conscious life out here after all. I nudge the dial to start playing the first station on the list.

_“...still sealed up. There is no way inside. My son, he ate one of the fruits from those damned trees up near the vault, and now he’s terribly sick. Too sick to move. We’ve holed up in the cistern near the old memorial. We’re running out of food and medical supplies. Please, if anybody hears this, help us..." *_ Message repeats* _"Hello? Is there anybody out there? Please, we need help! I was bringing my family to the Vault up near Kokkaido Farm when we were attacked by raiders. Only my son and I survived. We made it to the Vault, but it’s still sealed up. There is no way inside. My son, he ate one of the fruits from those damned trees up near the vault, and now he’s terribly sick. Too sick to move. We’ve holed up in the cistern near the old memorial. We’re running out of food and medical supplies. Please, if anybody hears this, help us…"_ *Message repeats* _"Hello?...”_

The voice was filled with a terrible resignation, as if the man had already given up hope and was just going through the motions. Shaken, I turned it off. I didn’t think I could bear to hear it again. That is when I noticed the soft ticking from my PipBoy. Checking it over, I discovered that its radiation detector -- a feature I had never known to be used, had self-activated. The ditzy little coloured dial had always been planted firmly in the green. It was still there, but edging discreetly towards the yellow. After that came red, and then black, with a skull picture next to the very end.

Right… I couldn’t just stand here beside what had long, long ago been the door to a simple apple cellar for the rest of my life. Well, I _could_ , but it would be a relatively short and miserable life. A realisation was dawning on me: with so many directions to go, what was the likelihood that I would chose the path that Ashido had followed? Even though she only had a few hours head start, the prospect of finding her was bleak. 

But I had to start somewhere. And the best chance I had was to get up high and have a look around. The ruins near me rose higher than any of the nearby trees, and the sheered-off roof of its upper tower was probably the best vantage point I could hope for.

So I closed my eyes, steadied myself, and went inside. 

*** *** ***

What was left of the barn/building proved sturdier than it looked (or sounded). It was also almost barren, anything of value that had survived had been pillaged, leaving only scraps of less-than-worthless junk that nobody wanted but that time itself seemed unable to erase. Torn shoes, boxes of soaps for cleaning dresses that no longer existed, a pitchfork with a shattered handle, a rake. Oh, and can't forget the bucket with a hole the size of my fist.

I began up the stairs. My eyes were alerted to a feeble glow, the soft green colour of a mouldy, far-from-edible fruit -- one I'd never seen before --, bathing the room above. The glow came from the screen of an old terminal, a device of science identical to the ones used throughout Vault 422. It seemed miraculous that it still worked after centuries on the outside. When Vault-Tec built something, they built it to _last_. 

Curiosity lured me to it, and my wonder was quickly replaced with understanding. It was no coincidence that this particular terminal was live, for on it was a fresh message:

_To any one who has left Vault Four-Two-Two in search of me:_

_Please, go home. I am doing what I have to do. The Overseer understands, even if she can never agree, and I hope one day you will too. I will not be back. Do not look for me. Do not endanger yourself further for my sake. Please forgive me. I couldn't last any longer stuck in that prison than out in this wasteland anyway._

_But if the one reading this is the cute PipBoy Technician, I preach you this:_

_I could see the look in your eyes. The one of curiosity of what lays out here past that iron door. I even thought of asking you to come with me..._

_But the risk was too great. Especially if you stopped me from doing this._

_Control your own life. Choose your own decisions. I won't write which way I am headed to make sure my trail isn't followed, however I know it would be nice to see a friendly, recognisable face at some point or another._

_See you around, cutie._

_Mina Ashido_

… I wasn't sure what to be more focussed on. The fact that HOLY HELL SHE CALLED ME CUTE! or _holy hell she could be anywhere_.

If only she had asked me earlier that day. I honestly think I would have said yes. Then we wouldn't have been split up. Wouldn't have been alone.

I searched the terminal for more, but all the other messages were ancient and corrupted save for one. And that one had a rather unique encryption, something I had heard of but never seen before -- a binary encryption such that in order to decrypt it, I would first have to download the message into my PipBoy from both the terminal which had been used to send it and the one upon which it was received. 

Having nothing better to do with the vast amounts of storage my PipBoy was capable of, I downloaded it. In reality, I knew that the chances that I would ever come across the companion terminal, much less that it would be functional, were overwhelmingly against me. Nor did I have any reason to believe a message centuries old would be of any significance. 

More importantly, I now had to face that outside was my new home. Even if I found Mina, it was incredibly unlikely that she would accompany me back. Especially after what she just said. I’ll admit, I had been subtly entertaining a fantasy where the Overseer would be so delighted with Ashido’s return that she would embrace us both back into the Vault. Maybe even throw me a party. Now, I was forced to admit how foalish that vision was.

Thinking upon this made my head fill with metaphorical black clouds. But as I reached the top of the ruins and looked out over the wasteland, a bright light, feeble as it was, flickered in that darkness... just as the light from the campfire, not half an hour’s walk away, poked an orange hole in the night. Billowing physical black plumes.

*** *** ***

As I approached the circle of firelight, I knew something was off. Something about the way the dusty clothed, ragged man was laying on his yellowed, broken mattress, legs curled up under him. Some tenseness in his body language.

But it wasn’t until I stepped foot into the light and got a good look -- a warm “Hello” dying on my lips -- that I saw he was gagged, and caught the glint of the flames against a few exposed links in the chains binding his limbs.

“Well lookee here! Walked up all nice and pleasant, didn’t he?” A large, burly man emerged from the shadows of a nearby rock. His shoes clacked metallically against the rocky ground, shod in cruelly sharp spikes. Two more men then slid out of hiding on opposite sides -- one, another large man with a large horn mutation protruding from his head, blistered with cracks and chips, was holding a shovel whose blade had been lethally sharpened, and the other, a lanky, thin man whose hands pointed towards me a short instrument of wood and metal with two pipes for barrels. Each of them wore barding made from thick hide. Much like night, I had never seen a firearm before, save for pictures in books. But those books were more than explicit enough for me to recognize the mortal threat. 

The bound man on the mat shook his head with a sad yet derisive look and began trying the scrape the gag away with a wrist, no longer making effort to keep the chains secret. The three menacing men scoured me, only sparing him only the occasional glance. Other than the one with the horn, none of them had any visible mutations.

That only made them more threatening, as they could have any quirk imaginable. They could have the power to control of dirt or the ability to shoot fire from their fingertips and I wouldn't be the wiser.

“Might as well have trussed himself up for us,” the gun-wielding unicorn snickered. Then, addressing me, “You wouldn’t mind, would you?”

Laughter. “And another clean, somewhat strong looking one too. He’ll fetch a nice price, this one.”

Fetch a price for what? And from whom?

The one holding the shovel-spear mumbled something incomprehensible. I noticed his teeth were mostly missing or disgustingly black. Then, apparently deciding it was a valid, comprehensible point, the lanky man with the gun re-iterated, “By the Go… He's right! I mean, look at him! I think he’s taken a _bath!_ ”

I was suddenly and bizarrely aware of how filthy all four of the men before me were, and how foul they smelled. I managed to cover a gag with a highly unimpressive sneeze which caused them all to laugh harder -- to my dismay. 

“W-w-what’s g-going on?” I asked. Of the emotions battling for supremacy in my head, confusion had clawed its way to victory.

The captive finally succeeded in pulling the filthy gag free. His voice was somewhat gravely and a little old. “They’re slavers, you idiot.”

*** *** ***

Monterey Jack, the dirty male with a dour expression, followed behind me as we trudged alongside our captors, walking a broken path that once must have been a road. My legs were in chains, making walking difficult and anything more speedy than a trot impossible. My PipBoy had stymied the slavers efforts to bind my wrists, eventually forcing them to chain me around the upper forearm. Had the one with the shovel-spear not been holding its point dangerously against my throat, the other two would have gotten a few fists to tender places for their efforts. As it was, they made short work of me.

I was not gagged, but Monterey had convinced me early that unnecessary chatter from the slaves-to-be would likely result in the loss of my tongue. Not that I had much to say to these brutes anyway aside from my repertoire of colorful metaphors. I didn’t expect they would answer my questions, even if my tongue should survive the asking, and they were being chatty enough with each other to suffice.

“Hate thif parf,” grumbled the tooth lacking slaver.

“Well then, if you would just learn to swim, we could take the long way, couldn’t we?” suggested the gun-wielder with poisoned sweetness.

“Hate fuffen waffa.” By his smell, decidedly more pungent than the others, I guessed he just hated water in general.

Not that his… _accent_ was an easy one to follow.

“How about you stop complaining and I’ll let you cut up one of the slaves a little before we get to the forest.” Their leader, the man named Cracker with the spiked shoes turned back towards Monterey and I with a filthy, deranged smile.

I looked away. They laughed. 

Through their disgusting dialogue, I could hear a liquid sound ahead. Not like a burbling water fountain but closer to a sloshing muck. And... something else. A distant sound, getting closer. Music? Yes, music. Slightly tinny yet... triumphant? Regal? I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what feeling the music was trying to inspire, but it was brightly out-of-place.

Cracker took note of my expression and smirked. “You look like you’ve never heard that before. What, did you live your life in a Vault? If you’re hoping for the cavalry, that ain’t it, kid. That’s just one of those sprite-bots.”

The music cut out with a sharp twang.

The still unnamed slaver with the gun, -I'm going to call him Sawed-Off both for the pipe barrels and his rising fingers- trampled ahead a bit, peering down the path in front. Turning back to the rest of us, he then smirked. “Think one of the radigators got it?”

Cracker suggested it flew into some raider’s booby trap. The other guy suggested a mouthful of spear-mangled mumbling, to which the other two both agreed was possible. After a few dozen metres, we came across a metal ball about the size of a foal’s head floating on four silently flapping wings -– hovering silently behind a tree, before flying right in front of our faces, catching everyone off guard, including the slavers. No quirk on this, I could tell; it was pure engineering.

“FUCK!” Sawed-Off leapt back a full table length in surprise. Then swung his shotgun to bear and fired it at the sprite-bot. The sound was like a metal plate falling from the ceiling, and it echoed through the night-darkened hills, startling me. Sparks specked the metal ball as it was peppered with scattershot. It let out an electric whine and darted into the darkness.

The guy almost took off after it, but Cracker’s voice cut the distance between them, “That’s enough, Seru. Save your ammo.”

“Dammit, I hate when they pull that stealthy shit. It’s a flying fucking radio; it’s not supposed to sneak up on people.”

My ears were burning from the free flow of crude profanity, but right now that wasn't what I was focussed on. I was mulling over what I had just seen.

“Idiot,” muttered Monterey Jack under his breath. “They heard that all the way from Kyoto...”

Unlike my fellow slave, I was pleased to have witnessed the slaver firing off his weapon. _Because now I knew how it worked_.

“...What kind of damned fool,” Monterey grumbled, “announces his presence this close to raider territory.”

*** *** ***

A river slithered across our path, its waters slipping and oozing along its banks, half-stagnant, but even in the twilight I could see the unhealthy sheen the liquid presented. The water lapped and sucked at the supports of a bridge, making the wet sounds I had been hearing earlier. Beyond the bridge lurked the shattered remains of a pre-war town.

The bridge was a maze of barricades. Dark shadows of people moved about it. Briefly, I may have made the mistake of hoping for rescue; but my eyes were drawn to the spiked poles that lined the bridge, and the still rotting heads of decapitated human beings that adorned two of them. 

I tasted bile. The sight was horrific. Thankfully to every God, neither face was Ashido's.

“Cager, stay here,” Cracker said, finally putting a name to the spear-wielding mumbler. “Seru, let’s go hear what the toll is this time.”

Monterey Jack lowered his head and looked balefully towards the bridge. I moved closer to him, following his example, and hoping that I had positioned myself so Cager couldn’t see the faint yellow of my trusty weapon, my screwdriver, as I slipped both it and a bobby pin from my Vault utility barding. Like all of the slavers’ equipment, the manacles on my legs were crude and of low quality, which I was highly thankful for. As Cracker and Sawed-Off argued with the bridge keepers, I focused on picking the first lock. I was rewarded with a soft click as it sprung open, releasing my left arm and my PipBoy. The manacle fell to the ground with a little thump. 

“Hhu!” Cagey’s ears had shot up, and now he moved around to see me. Swiftly, I dropped the screwdriver and bobby pin into the dirt, and hoped that in the darkness the slaver couldn’t see the change in my chains. 

“Wuf hoo uf foo?” Cagey growled dangerously. The nasty sharp edge of the shovel hovered inches from my eyes. 

* **BLAM!** *

Cagey turned abruptly, the spear-shovel slashing close enough to my face that I tumbled backwards. The gunshot was from the bridge. It didn’t sound like Sawed-Off’s (Seru) shotgun. But the second shot did.

It took Cagey a breath to recognize that crossing the bridge had become a bloody affair. Glowering back at us, his posture threatening, he started to say... something. I suspect he was warning us to stay put, but I’ll never know. His head exploded, showering me with gore.

I stood there, eyes wide, shaking with shock. Blood, warm and sticky, ran down my forehead and into my left eye, oozed into my hair and staining my skin crimson. 

In the growing list of things I’d not seen before this night, the death of another person ranked at the top. I blinked, feeling the blood on my eyelid. Cagey was dead! And I had Cagey all over me!!

The urge to throw myself into the river was overwhelming. But I wouldn’t get to it like this. Pushed by something more than determination now, my hands shivered as I once again picked at the lock with my recovered screwdriver. Desperate to unlock the rest of my manacles as to escape my head exploding like confetti. 

I spared a glance towards the bridge, seeing Sawed-Off hunkering down beside one of the barricades as he snapped his shotgun open, stuffing in more ammo. Two shots, I realized. One at the sprite-bot, one just now. Two shots, and then reload. Closing the weapon, he levitated it up above the barricade and shot blindly once into the violent milieu, spraying an already wounded raider with scattershot, who staggered and fell. 

Unfortunately for Sawed-Off, the raider still advancing him had a different kind of shotgun, one that was faster and not limited to two shots, that fired slugs which tore great holes in the slaver’s body the moment he looked up to see the results of his effort.

I turned away, cringing from the nightmare playing out before me. I focused on the locks.

*** *** ***

I had freed myself and was beginning to free Monterey when two raiders trailed off the bridge towards us, stepping over the battle-mutilated corpses of Cracker, Sawed-Off and the raiders they had taken down with them. One of those approaching was the one wielding the devastating combat shotgun. The other, with a sledgehammer firmly planted in their palms. They were both female, and the first was laughing. Not the mean laugh of Cracker, but a crazed laugh that sent chills down the back of my neck.

“Looks like we got ourselves some prizes!”

The second chortled behind the sledgehammer as the one who laughed and spoke looked us over appraisingly. The two were somehow even filthier than the slavers. Large, jagged scars bore across her face and limbs, one of them tearing through her cheek, freshly bleeding. The second was hairless and painfully burned over much of her left side. Both wore barding that looked ragged and cobbled together. Only a scrap shoulder pad and some leather straps and cloth holding most of it together.

“ _Help us…?_ ” I suggested weakly.

“Oh, I’ll help myself to you, all right!” The scarred one abruptly gave me a kick, her foot striking hard into my side. Pain exploded and I dropped, gasping. Rearing up again, she brought her full weight down on me. I howled.

Near me, Monterey let out a wet grunt of pain as the other raider gave him a taste of her sledgehammer. Leaving me in a crying huddle, she also turned her attention to the still-chained Monterey. In moments it became clear they intended to beat and bludgeon him until he was another lifeless corpse. And probably not stop then. 

“Hold his leg out. I’m gonna shoot his foot off!” The unicorn raider floated the combat shotgun a foot from Monterey’s mutilated left leg, the only one I had freed from its manacle.

Ignoring the pain, I leapt up, closing the distance and spinning as I gave a fierce roundhouse kick. My foot connected with the shotgun, sending it flying. It clattered onto the bridge beyond. A moment later, I was pointing the shovel-spear at the two raider ponies who stood facing me with gleeful expressions. Two against one, and both of them were experienced fighters. The one with the sledgehammer stepped closer, as if eager to see if hammer beat blade.

Monterey was on her in an instant, throwing his hands over her head and pulling the chain between them across her neck. The sledgehammer fell from her grasp as she choked and clasped for breath. 

The other turned, surprised by the sudden change in odds. I could have attacked her then, but threatening a pony is much different than actually attacking one. I wasn’t sure I had it in me to slash at another pony, to draw her blood. To maim, or possibly kill.

she kicked up the fallen sledgehammer and turned to face me with it, murder in her eyes. And suddenly, I found it easy to thrust the shovel-spear forward. I was no longer struggling with following through on a threat; this was survival. Self-preservation is instinctual; it clears away the moral hesitations. And while I did not have the fighting skills of my opponent, I did have an advantage all my own. V.A.T.S. 

Aided by the targeting system of my PipBoy, I sent the spear slashing across her knees, hobbling her. A second slash, this time across her face, relieved her of her weapon. The third would be a killing blow...

...except I wasn’t ready to do that. Not yet. Instead, I swung the spear around, cracking her across the head with its handle, hard enough to splinter the wood. The insane woman fell at my feet, unconscious.

I looked up. Monterey was standing, chest heaving, over the body of the other raider, the life choked out of her. He was staring at me quietly. Then finally raised an arm, only for the chain to clank tight before he had it more than a few inches high.

“Oh!” Dropping the shovel-spear, I turned on the light of my PipBuck and searched about for my screwdriver. I had lost the bobby pin; there was no chance of finding it in the dirt at night. But I had more.

Once we were both free, Monterey limped slowly over to the bridge. A moment later, he returned. Sawed-Off’s shotgun was nestled in his hand. Before I could react, he aimed it at the head of the unconscious unicorn raider and fired. 

Her blood began to seep across the ground towards my shoes. I watched in stunned silence at the grotesque scene as he turned and began prodding at the bodies, tugging items from them. 

Finally, I found my voice. “W-what are you doing now?”

He looked at me as if I was stupid. “Checking to see if they have anything valuable on them. With luck, food and such.” I nodded, watching him move to the bodies at this end of the bridge. Looting the bodies of the dead felt wrong; but a cold, rational part of me murmured that it was a qualm I would have to get over in order to survive. And imagine how embarrassed I'd be if I starved to death out here because I'd been too shy to check a dead man's bag for a pouch of food or a can of old soup? I moved a bit further down the bridge. 

I looked over at the body of a dead male raider, his face bloody and torn from Cracker’s shoes. I started to go through the pockets of his barding, but my stomach rebelled, and I flung myself to the railing, heaving my lunch into the foul river below. A large break in the clouds brought a soft and silvery light to everything, and I could see my reflection in the water, still covered with Cagey’s drying blood. 

Then in my peripherals I saw Seru’s shotgun hovering in the air behind my head.

“I’ll be taking what you have too,” Monterey Jack informed me with a bored drawl.

“W-what!?” I turned slowly to see him standing on the bridge, bathed in moonlight, his stance was tilted and expression blacker than the poker-players back in the Vault. The shotgun sat between us, pointed at me. 

“B-but I just saved you!”

“Yeah. And for that, I’m not going to kill you.” His eyes narrowed. “Unless, of course, you do something stupid right now.”

_“But I just saved you!”_ Is he actually serious!?

“Aren’t you top of your class,” he said snidely. 

“Shouldn't we work together!? Travel together!?”

Monterey guffawed. “And split our limited provisions? Go to sleep with one eye open each night, hoping to catch you when you try to stab me in the back? No thanks.”

My righteous disbelief stopped short of denial. Suddenly, I was so very weary.

I was just a boy. Seventeen and new to the wastelands. I didn't have it in me to resist. All my energy had already gone into the events previous and already I was getting mugged by the person I saved.

Nodding, I lowered my head and let my two canteens slip free. I then backed up so he could approach them. I turned my head to start removing my rucksack. 

I saw it on the bridge just beyond my feet.

Innocently, I held my pack out towards him and backed up as though indicating space for him to pick up my canteens.

Of course, that was only a ruse, and the combat shotgun whipped into the air faster than he could retaliate. For a long moment, we stood there, two men on a bridge, surrounded by bodies, shotguns between us, aimed at each other. Moonlight shone down on us from the break in the yellow clouds.

Monterey Jack broke the silence, “You’re not going to use that. I saw you spare that raider. If you couldn’t kill a bastard like that, you don’t have it in you to kill me.”

I narrowed my eyes. “I’m a quick learner.”

He huffed, but didn’t move. “Do you even know how to use that thing?”

I forced a smile across my face. “Do you know that you only have one shot left? And judging by the sprite-bot, that gun is in such poor repair I’ll likely survive being shot with it if it's only one scatter of pellets. But will you survive being shot with this as many times as I can pull the trigger while you try to reload?” my words were venomous underneath the sweet tone.

Monterey Jack took a step back. And with that falter, my smile was no longer forced. “I'm no monster. Keep your stuff and leave… But I’ll be taking my canteens back.” 

*** *** ***

Kyoto. I wondered just how my PipBoy knew the names of places before I did. It even named the wreckage of a building that I had just slipped into. This town was raider territory. I just hoped this place, this 'Designer' clothes store, was not crawling with them. 

Luckily, Monterey Jack didn't have a clear quirk that could have turned the tables on me. He had sighed, returned my belongings and we had barely parted ways when the railing of the bridge exploded next to me. It was the same deafening, echoing boom that sounded earlier. It came from, I presumed, the same person who had turned Cagey’s head into applesauce. I fled into the town, keeping to what cover there was. Few of the buildings were intact enough to hide in. This was the closest.

Fortunately, I was alone. I waited for nearly an hour, curled up in a shadow near the door; but the sniper seemed uninspired to follow me. No, she or he could just wait until I came out.

Fatigue washed over me. I had stayed up all the night before, and this night’s events were a strain on both body and spirit. My muscles were weak and achy. My body hurt from the kicks I had taken. I felt emotionally played-out. I needed to sleep. Sleeping here was probably a horrible idea. If I woke up at all, it could be in the hands of more slavers, raiders or possibly worse…

But going back outside, _finding someplace better…_ It just wasn’t on the table. I was in no shape to test my wits against the head-popper again.

The store was quite similar in condition to the building up at Hokkaido Farm, only the looting was more destructive. The walls had been painted with crude images of violence and cruder words. Blood was painted in phrases like slogans on the walls, and a pile of torn-up cloth rotted in a corner, smelling foul, like people had urinated on it repeatedly. There were two beds, one of which was stained deeply with blood (and probably more vile things). The other was smaller, a childs bed, nothing but a mattress on a crushed frame. In my state, I felt it would do wonderfully.

The building offered two more treasures, a locked chest and another terminal, identical to the one back at the farm. This one too was sadly not functional, more to my expectations. I left the chest for the morning, curled up, and went to sleep.


End file.
